Mary’s beautiful strawberry blonde hair shined with a life of its’ own as Jenny ran a brush through her healthy, soft, fluffy mane, her feathery layers bouncing playfully and stacking back into place as the brush swept through them without a hint of a snag. Her thick and full fringe completely covered her forehead like a stage curtain in a play, perfect as always along with the rest of her hair that tumbled down to the top of her bum. It was some of the most beautiful hair I had ever seen in my life, including ads and commercials for any type of hair product, and if you didn’t know better you wouldn’t have had the slightest idea that it was dying.

It had been ten minutes since Mary drank the depilatory that she had stolen from the lab she interned at. As it turned out she was good friends with one of the researchers there and he was looking for a human test subject to try a pre-emptive sample of this new wonder tonic, so he fudged the numbers and slipped her some of the bottles for her to try out. He had warned her that consuming a single drop of this formula would cause significant loss of hair, around 200 strands, and complete consumption of the bottle would cause catastrophic hair loss which began in as little as twenty minutes. The effects lasted around three to five hours, at which point the follicles would recover and new hair would begin growing again.

“But&nbsp;why&nbsp;would anyone want to make this stuff? Who on Earth would want to give up their hair?” I asked as Jenny continued to brush out Mary’s mane for its’ final moments on this Earth. Almost instantly I realized what a stupid question this was since there were four people in this room who at one point had this intention.

“Well Tracie, in medicine they’re often required to shave the heads of people before brain surgery, but a nick on the head could cause infection to someone already suffering from a weakened immune system like someone on chemo, not to mention all the hair that tends to get stuck on the patient during the shave. This simplifies the process, and it’s specially designed to only attack the follicles on your head.” Mary replied, and this explanation actually made sense.

“Interesting, any chance we can maybe get a bottle and slip it into Tracies’ coke?” Nicole asked with a smile.

“What? When? WHY?!? NO!” I reached up and began running my fingers through my thick, thigh length hair, half afraid that I would feel my locks slide off my head as my fingers slid through the warm, soft, silk of my mane.

“Relax, I’m just kidding Tracie. Even if I wanted to Jared could only get this out pre-distribution, while shipping, and even then he could only get a few bottles out. Once this stuff ships it’s going to be tightly controlled, so any chance of a practical joke with it would be slim to none because only hospitals will be allowed to stock it.” Mary replied calmly. I had no idea how she could be so calm with her hair minutes away from falling out in clumps.

I walked over and sat behind her as Jenny handed me the brush, then began to run it through Marys’ silky soft, massive mane. As I brushed through her hair I was amazed by just how soft and silky and full of life Marys’ hair was, I tried to commit the feeling of her silky locks to memory because as I took a look at the clock I realized that just over thirteen minutes had passed since Mary downed the strange liquid.

“So how the heck could you just jump in like that?” I asked Mary as I gathered her hair into a ponytail so I could brush underneath it as well.

“Oh come on Tracie, all four of us lost our hair over nine months ago when we made this deal, everyday since then that we got to keep our locks has been a gift. Why else do you think my hypothesis worked? Because a person tends to enjoy a privilege much more than a right, and keeping my hair for this long was a privilege.” I had no idea Mary could be so philosophical.

“True, but at the same time I don’t have any idea what I’m doing to keep my hair, and I don’t really consider that a privilege, more like luck.” I cleaned out the brush of only a few hairs, keeping my eyes open for the telltale sign of more and more hair being stuck to the brush with every stroke. So far however there was no significant amount of hair. “As far as I’m concerned I still have my hair because of luck, not privilege.”

“Not for much longer! You have&nbsp;no&nbsp;idea how close you have come to losing your mane already. I’ve seen you reel back your behavior lately, and I&nbsp;know&nbsp;it’s because you’re trying save your hair, but it’s not going to work. I hate to say it Tracie, but if I were you I would enjoy that hair as much as I’ve been enjoying mine, because I’m pretty sure you’d be lucky to have two, maybe three months TOPS before you lose that precious hair you are so proud of.” Mary shot at me, maybe she wasn’t taking losing her hair as well as I thought she was.

“Hey don’t go after&nbsp;my&nbsp;hair, last I checked all four of us were pampering our hair while we could. And unless I’m mistaken you’ve taken a step back from your usual crazy self to try to save your hair as well. So don’t act like I’m the only one here who’s proud of her hair just because I’m the only one left with it.”

For a moment it was silent in the room, then Mary sighed and shut her eyes. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I have been acting less like myself lately, but then I realized that no matter what I did, I’d trigger this eventually, and now that it’s coming to an end, I’m kinda relieved. Don’t worry Tracie, you’ll see it’s not so bad once it’s your turn.”

“Well, let’s save that for a while longer. I’m kind of curious how long I can get my hair before it’s time to lose it all.” Mary was right, maybe I was holding onto my massive mane of silk a little too hard, maybe it was time to just be myself and leave it to chance. I continued to run the brush through Mary’s thick locks for another few strokes, then cleaned out the brush again.&nbsp;Nothing strange yet.

“How long are you going to grow it?” Jenny asked me, a question I actually hadn’t even thought of. I continued brushing out Mary’s hair in silent contemplation.

“I don’t know… good question. I don’t see myself growing it past my knees though, so I figure when…&nbsp;if&nbsp;it gets that long I’ll keep it at that length.” I responded.

“Hey Tracie, you know if you ever end up losing your hair that means for the first time ever you’re going to have the shortest hair of our group?” I paused again, it actually never had occurred to me.

“Oh my&nbsp;God!&nbsp;You’re RIGHT! Wow!” That was a bit strange, as I had always been the lucky one in the group blessed with the longest, thickest, and most beautiful hair out of the four of us. Over the course of forty-one days though I had become the outcast of the group, soon to be the only one&nbsp;with&nbsp;hair. “That’s going to be strange, so is being the only one of us…” but I stopped short. I was cleaning out the brush again and I realized that for the f
irst time since Mary had taken her shot there was more hair in the brush than in the time before it.

“What? What is it? Is it starting?” Mary asked, a look of excitement (and I thought I saw fear) crossing her face.

“I don’t know, maybe, there’s definitely more hair, and I bushed it exactly thirty times.” There wasn’t much hair in the brush, maybe nine or ten strands total, but it was definitely more than the three or four strands I had cleaned out before it. I looked at the clock and saw that almost sixteen minutes had passed, so I took a long look at Mary’s hair from behind, as this could very well be the last time I ever saw her hair look this beautiful.

“Uh oh,” Jenny and Nicole said almost in unison, “brush it again and see what happens.”

“Wait, wait!” Mary stood up and walked over to the mirror and a look of sadness crossed her face as she began running her hands through her full head of hair for the last time. It took me a few seconds to realize she was saying goodbye to her hair, and after almost a minute she stopped, not because she was done, but as her hands came away from her beautiful red mane I saw her hold her fingers up to her face. At first I didn’t know what she was doing, but then I saw her holding a several loose strand between her fingers, something I had NEVER seen happen all the times I had seen her play with her hair. “OK, let’s find out.”

She sat back down in front of me and I began brushing out her hair once again, and even though it had only been maybe a minute and a half since the last brushing I could tell about ten strokes in that Mary’s hair was indeed in trouble. After a solid thirty strokes I looked down at the brush and saw that sure enough there were easily about forty or fifty strands of hair in the brush.&nbsp;It had taken just under sixteen minutes to start, but it appeared that this stuff had begun the slow, eventual destruction of Mary’s beautiful mane.

A few minutes passed as each one of us took turns playing with Mary’s hair, and as the twenty minute mark hit Mary sat back down in front of me for another thirty strokes of the brush. This time it was pretty bad, and thirty strokes later I was cleaning out a huge mass of silky soft strands from the teeth of the brush. Around this time I could actually notice the first signs of the effect in Mary’s hair, and even though her hair looked just as full, thick, and soft as it did a mere ten minutes ago it also looked slightly more frazzled and unkempt, despite all the brushing. I didn’t understand why at first, but then I realized that her hair still attached to her head was picking up the strands that were beginning to fall out.

Twenty-three minutes later and the damage was more obvious to the eye. The bulk of her hair still looked thick and full, but we could notice that her bangs were actually beginning to thin. For the first time since she cut them into her hairline we could actually begin seeing hints of her forehead through her hair, and as time went on her bangs slowly began to change from a thick, blunt fringe into wispy bangs that continued to thin away. We continued to talk and laugh and comment on how crazy this strange concoction was, but even though Mary put on a brave face as her hair continued to subtly melt away I could hear sad tones accenting parts of her speech.

Half an hour into this experiment Marys’ scalp was clearly losing its’ battle to hang on to her soft, luxurious mane of silk. Her formerly thick and feathery layered tresses now looked flatter and lifeless as they continued to dwindle away, and as we continued to run our hands through her mane they would come out holding fistfuls of her beautiful red hair. I tried to run a brush through her hair to help stem the tide, but before long I had to clean out the brush after every stroke.

Forty minutes after she took her drink about half of Mary’s amazing mane of hair had vanished, and her hair had begun falling out in clumps without us even touching it. Her scalp was becoming more and more visible under a thinning&nbsp;blanket of red satin, her thick, poofy layers were all but gone, and only wispy traces remained of her perfect, thick bangs. We had laid out plastic tarps to prevent her hair from shedding all over the floor, and even the simple act of standing up to get a drink of water would leave behind a trail of long, shining red locks on the plastic.

The fifty minute mark rolled around, and only traces of Mary’s amazing red mane still clung to her head. Her scalp was clearly visible and had replaced her hair save for a ridiculously thin layer of strands that continued to struggle to hang onto her scalp. She resembled someone going through chemo-therapy, save for the smile that covered her face and the wild sparkle in her eye as her hair continued to fall out.

“It’s strange really,” Mary said as she reached up and pulled out another handful of crimson red silk, “that I used to have hair like I did. I’m already beginning to forget what it felt like.”

“Do you regret doing it this way?” I asked her. The desire to plunge my hands into my thick blanket of silvery hair for re-assurance was all but screaming in my head, but I fought the urge out of respect for Marys’ balding process. She was quiet for a few seconds, then shook her head, another flood of shining red strands falling off of her head with the movement.

“Nah, I wanted something different than just clippers, and this definitely did the trick.” She reached out and touched one of my long, thick tresses, then reached into my mane with both hands and began gathering my hair into a ponytail. “So be honest, have you thought about how you want to say goodbye to your hair?” she asked as she began running a brush through my luxurious locks.

The question hit me in the stomach like a punch, but then I realized that it actually made a lot of sense to ask. I had always thought my exceptional, beautiful, princess-worthy curtain of silvery blonde satin was too amazing to merely lose to clippers, but as I thought things through I couldn’t even begin to comprehend how I would want it done. Gathered in a ponytail and lopped off? Never! Watch it slowly wither and die away bit by bit like Marys’ hair was doing? Heck no! Have a set of clippers run through the middle of my thick, lush mane? Turning it into some kind of mockery of hairstyle before peeling it off my head completely? Perish the thought!

“I… I don’t know!” I replied as Mary continued to brush through my hair, “I REALLY don’t have a clue!”

“Clippers?” Jenny asked.

“Scissors?” Nicole asked.

“Like mine?” Mary asked.

“No, no, and no. I don’t know, I don’t want to do something traditional, but I can’t stand the idea of letting my hair die away slowly.” I sighed, then looked at each of my friends with sad eyes. “If it were up to me, I’d want to have hair one second, and the next second, it would be gone, just like that. I don’t know, I guess it would have to be clippers since that would be the fastest way.”

“Yeah.” Jenny and Nicole said in unison, but Mary stopped brushing for a second. I turned around to look at her.

“You have something in mind?” I asked, then saw her stand up and walk over to her vanity, a huge mass of her rapidly fading mane falling from her scalp with the movement. Only a few stray red strands peppered the scalp that had once possessed a beautiful mane of shining, strawberry blonde locks. She rifled through the drawers, then pulled out seven bottles of her solution.

“There is another way to use this stuff
, I just chose this way.” she said, a smile spreading across her face. “If you drink this like I did, it acts as a depilatory, but if you expose it to your hair directly, the proteins in hair would create a chain reaction, and the chemical would actually travel throughout your hair, literally vaporizing it almost instantly!”

“What?” I asked flabbergasted as I ran my fingers through my silky soft ponytail. My hair was so soft and so healthy that my ponytail was as thick as one of my arms, but when I pulled out my hair band it spilled back down my back like a beautiful, silvery blonde blanket of shining silk. “How long would it take to erase all of my hair?” Did I really just ask that? Was I really contemplating this?

“Forty-five seconds and then POOF? My hair is totally gone huh?” I held my massive mane in my hands, so many years of work and care, shampooing and conditioning, brushing and grooming. So many years I had put into it, and all the time I had loved it more than anything else. It was my one indulgence in life, my one weak spot, and with one quick gesture I could make it disappear like it never existed in the span of forty-five seconds. “Over six years of work and care, gone in forty-five seconds? That’s crazy Mary! That’s horrible! That’s… that’s…” I felt my hands tighten around my silky mass of hair, “that’s BRILLIANT!”

“Really?” Mary asked, her grin widening.

“I think that’s it!” but then the gravity of this idea hit me again. Not only would I be losing my hair, but the idea of being able to keep a four foot long ponytail would be gone along with it. “But I’m not sure, just… let me have some time to think about it OK?” I told her as I let my hands slide from my satin treasure.

“Alright, but don’t think for too long. Remember, it won’t be long now.” Mary said as she gestured towards my hair and even more of her own hair fell out with this simple movement.

Fifty-five minutes and twenty three-seconds after Mary took that drink of cursed depilatory the final traces of her beautiful mane fell from her head. The last ten or so stray strands that had survived the onslaught were easily pulled out by us as we cleaned off her head. Jenny,&nbsp;Nicole, Mary, and myself all couldn’t believe how her head felt, it was nothing short of remarkable. It was smooth and soft, almost rubbery, but in a strange way, kind of sexy. As I rubbed it and compared it to the sharp, tough, and rough stubble that had adorned Jenny and Nicole’s heads I couldn’t help but secretly think that after my night of loss this was how my head would feel, and it would be nice to know that I could feel this sensation for myself at least one or two nights in my life.

&nbsp;

The rest of that night we doted over Mary’s smooth head, then parted ways and went back to our own places. Before I went to sleep I sat in front of my vanity in my pajamas, brushing out my long, silky mane and marveling at how long it had really grown since my freshman year. Back then I thought my hair was long when it barely touched my shoulder blades. Nowadays it spilled past my back, past my waist, past my buttocks, and past my thighs, ending just a handful of inches above my knees. It shined beautifully in the overhead lights and was thicker than any hair I had ever seen. I loved my three friends, but even at the peak of their manes’ beauty they couldn’t even hold a torch to my mass of thick, platinum blonde silk. If I wanted to I could have become a model for shampoo or hair products tomorrow with this hair, but at any given moment I may be forced to make it disappear into thin air at the drop of a hat.

But even though this idea would have terrified me just days ago, Marys’ words had actually inspired me. My fear of losing this mane had all but disappeared in place of resolve to love my hair everyday I had it, and be ready to part with it that day I lost it. I placed my brush on the counter and reached back with both hands and played with my hair with a smile on my face. It had taken me almost ten months to do so, but I had finally come to terms with eventually losing my hair. I hoped it wouldn’t happen, but even though they may have been idle words, Marys’ comments about how close I had come actually to losing my hair had made me worried.

Still though, I felt a hundred times better with the idea of losing it, and when my day of reckoning came I had found a fitting way to part with it, quick, painless, and complete. I would have liked to be able to keep my ponytail, but the more I thought about it I realized that the idea of keeping the ponytail would have just reminded me of how painful my separation had been.

I dropped my arms to my sides after a moment, then smiled at myself in the mirror. I was ready for what was to come for my hair, but as I looked at my beautiful mane frame my face perfectly I saw my smile begin to quiver, then fall slightly as tears began to form at the corners of my eyes.

I was ready to part with my hair. But as ready as I could be there was still one thing I had yet to do, cry over the loss of my beautiful mane.

I buried my face into my warm, soft, silky locks and let loose a river of tears over losing my hair. As pathetic as I felt at crying over this inevitability I actually felt better as my beautiful tresses soaked up the tears.

“I’m so sorry.” I whispered to my hair as I said my final goodbyes, preparing myself for what would happen the day I finally triggered my event.